Chapter IV: Part 4

From what the reader has already seen of Knox’s character, he may readily conceive that the sermons delivered by him at court, were not less free and bold than those of his colleagues. We may form a judgment of them from the account which he has given of the last sermon preached by him before his majesty; in which he directed several piercing glances of reproof at the haughty premier and his crafty relation, the marquis of Winchester, lord high treasurer, both of whom were among his hearers. His text was John, xiii. 18. “He that eateth bread with me, hath lifted up his heel against me.” It had been often seen, he said, that the most excellent and godly princes were surrounded with false and ungodly officers and counsellors. Having enquired into the reasons of this, and illustrated the fact from the scripture examples of Achitophel under King David, Shebna under Hezekiah, and Judas under Jesus Christ, he added: “What wonder is it, then, that a young and innocent king be deceived by crafty, covetous, wicked, and ungodly counsellors? I am greatly {111} afraid that Achitophel be counsellor, that Judas bear the purse, and that Shebna be scribe, comptroller, and treasurer.”[163]

On the 6th of July, 1553, Edward VI. departed this life, to the unspeakable grief of all the lovers of learning, virtue, and the protestant religion; and a black cloud spread over England, which, after hovering a while, burst into a dreadful storm, that raged during five years with the most destructive fury. Knox was at this time in London.[164] He received the afflicting tidings of his majesty’s decease with becoming fortitude and resignation to the sovereign will of Heaven. The event did not meet him unprepared: he had long anticipated it, with its probable consequences; the prospect had produced the keenest anguish in his breast, and drawn tears from his eyes; and he had frequently introduced the subject into his public discourses and confidential conversations with his friends. Writing to Mrs Bowes, some time after this, he says, “How oft have you and I talked of these present days, till neither of us both could refrain tears, when no such appearance then was seen of man! How oft have I said unto you, that I looked daily for trouble, and that I wondered at it, that so long I should escape it! What moved me to refuse (and that with displeasure of all men, even of those {112} that best loved me) those high promotions that were offered by him whom God hath taken from us for our offences? Assuredly the foresight of trouble to come.[165] How oft have I said unto you that the time would not be long that England would give me bread! Advise with the last letter that I wrote unto your brother‑in‑law, and consider what is therein contained.”[166]

He remained in London until the 19th of July, when Mary was proclaimed queen, only nine days after the same ceremony had been performed in that city for the amiable and unfortunate Lady Jane Grey. The thoughtless demonstrations of joy given by the inhabitants, at an event which threatened such danger to the religious faith which they still avowed, affected him so deeply, that he could not refrain, in his sermons, from publicly testifying his displeasure at their conduct, and from warning them of the calamities which they had reason to dread.[167] Immediately after this, he appears to have withdrawn from London, and retired to the north of England, being justly apprehensive of the measures which might be pursued by the new government.[168]

{113} To induce the protestants to submit peaceably to her authority, Mary amused them for some time with proclamations, in which she promised not to do violence to their consciences. Though aware of the bigotry of the queen, and the spirit of the religion to which she was devoted, the protestant ministers reckoned it their duty to improve this respite. In the month of August, Knox returned to the south, and resumed his labours. It seems to have been at this time that he composed the Confession and Prayer, commonly used by him in the congregations to which he preached, in which he prayed for queen Mary by name, and for the suppression of such as meditated rebellion.[169] While he itinerated through Buckinghamshire, he was attended by large audiences, which his popularity and the alarming crisis drew together; especially at Amersham, a borough formerly noted for the general reception of the doctrines of Wickliffe, the precursor of the Reformation in England, and from which the seed sown by his followers had never been altogether eradicated.[170] Wherever he went, he earnestly exhorted the people to repentance under the tokens of divine displeasure, and to a steady adherence to the faith which they had embraced. He continued to preach in Buckinghamshire and Kent during the harvest months, although the measures of government daily rendered his safety more precarious; {114} and in the beginning of November, returned to London, where he resided chiefly with Mr Locke and Mr Hickman, two respectable merchants of his acquaintance.[171]

While the measures of the new government threatened danger to all the protestants in the kingdom, and our countryman was under daily apprehensions of imprisonment, he met with a severe trial of a private nature. I have already mentioned his engagements to Miss Bowes. At this time, it was judged proper by both parties to avow the connexion, and to proceed to solemnize their union. This step was opposed by the young lady’s father; and his opposition was accompanied with circumstances which gave much distress to Mrs Bowes and her daughter, as well as to Knox. His refusal seems to have proceeded from family pride; but there is reason to think it was also influenced by religious considerations; as, from different hints dropped in the correspondence about this affair, he appears to have been, if not inclined to popery in his judgment, at least resolved to comply with the religion now favoured by the court. On this subject I find Knox writing from London to Mrs Bowes, in a letter, dated 20th September, 1553. “My great labours, wherein I desire your daily prayers, will not suffer me to satisfy my mind touching all the process between your husband and you touching my matter with his daughter. I praise God heartily both for your boldness and constancy. {115} But, I beseech you, mother, trouble not yourself too much therewith. It becomes me now to jeopard my life for the comfort and deliverance of my own flesh,[172] as that I will do by God’s grace, both fear and friendship of all earthly creature laid aside. I have written to your husband, the contents whereof I trust our brother Harry will declare to you and my wife. If I escape sickness and imprisonment, [you may] be sure to see me soon.”[173]

His wife and mother‑in‑law were anxious that he should settle in Berwick, or its neighbourhood, where he might perhaps be allowed to reside peaceably, although in a more private way than formerly. To this proposal he does not seem to have been averse, provided he could have seen any prospect of his being able to support himself. Since the accession of queen Mary, the payment of the salary allotted him by government had been stopped. Indeed, he had not received any part of it for the last twelve months.[174] His father‑in‑law was abundantly able to give him a sufficient establishment; but Knox’s spirit could not brook the thought of being dependent on one who had treated him with coldness and disdain. Induced by the importunity of Mrs Bowes, he applied to her brother‑in‑law, Sir Robert Bowes, and attempted, by a candid explanation of all circumstances, to remove any umbrage which had been conceived against him by the family, and to procure an amicable settlement {116} of the whole affair. The unfavourable issue of this interview was communicated by him in a letter to Mrs Bowes, of which the following is an extract:

“Dear mother, so may and will I call you, not only for the tender affection I bear unto you in Christ, but also for the motherly kindness ye have shewn unto me at all times since our first acquaintance; albeit such things as I have desired, (if it had pleased God,) and ye and others have long desired, are never like to come to pass, yet shall ye be sure that my love and care toward you shall never abate, so long as I can care for any earthly creature. Ye shall understand that this 6th of November, I spake with Sir Robert Bowes on the matter ye know, according to your request, whose disdainful, yea, despiteful words have so pierced my heart, that my life is bitter unto me. I bear a good countenance with a sore troubled heart; while he that ought to consider matters with a deep judgment is become not only a despiser, but also a taunter of God’s messengers. God be merciful unto him. Among other his most unpleasing words, while that I was about to have declared my part in the whole matter, he said, ‘Away with your rhetorical reasons, for I will not be persuaded with them.’ God knows I did use no rhetoric or coloured speech, but would have spoken the truth, and that in most simple manner. I am not a good orator in my own cause. But what he would not be content to hear of me, God shall declare to him one day to his displeasure, unless he repent. It is supposed that all the matter comes by you and me. I pray God {117} that your conscience were quiet and at peace, and I regard not what country consume this my wicked carcase. And were it not that no man’s unthankfulness shall move me (God supporting my infirmity) to cease to do profit unto Christ’s congregation, those days should be few that England would give me bread. And I fear that, when all is done, I shall be driven to that end; for I cannot abide the disdainful hatred of those, of whom not only I thought I might have craved kindness, but also to whom God hath been by me more liberal than they be thankful. But so must men declare themselves. Affection does trouble me at this present; yet I doubt not to overcome by him, who will not leave comfortless his afflicted to the end, whose omnipotent spirit rest with you. Amen.”[175]

He refers to the same disagreeable affair in another letter written about the end of this year. After mentioning the bad state of his health, which had been greatly increased by distress of mind, he adds, “It will be after the 12th day before I can be at Berwick; and almost I am determined not to come at all. Ye know the cause. God be more merciful unto some, than they are equitable unto me in judgment. The testimony of my conscience absolves me, before his face who looks not upon the presence of man.”[176] These extracts show us the heart of the writer; they discover the sensibility of his temper, the keenness of his feelings, and his pride and independence of spirit {118} struggling with a sense of duty, and affection to his relations.

About the end of November, or the beginning of December, he retired from the south to Newcastle. The parliament had by this time repealed all the laws made in favour of the Reformation, and restored the Roman catholic religion; but such as pleased, were permitted to observe the protestant worship until the 20th of December. After that period they were thrown out of the protection of the law, and exposed to the pains decreed against heretics. Many of the bishops and ministers were already committed to prison; others had escaped beyond sea. Knox could not, however, prevail on himself either to flee the kingdom, or to desist from preaching. Three days after the period limited by the statute had elapsed, he says in one of his letters, “I may not answer your places of scripture, nor yet write the exposition of the sixth psalm, for every day of this week must I preach, if this wicked carcase will permit.”[177]

His enemies, who had been defeated in their attempts to ruin him under the former government, had now access to rulers sufficiently disposed to listen to their information. They were not dilatory in improving the opportunity. In the end of December 1553, or beginning of January 1554, his servant was seized, as he carried letters from him to his wife and mother‑in‑law, and the letters were taken from him, in the hopes of finding in them some matter of accusation {119} against the writer. As they contained merely religious advices, and exhortations to constancy in the protestant faith, which he was prepared to avow before any court to which he might be called, he was not alarmed at their interception. But, being aware of the uneasiness which the report would give to his friends at Berwick, he set out immediately with the design of visiting them. Notwithstanding the secrecy with which he conducted this journey, the rumour of it quickly spread; and some of his wife’s relations who had joined him, perceiving that he was in imminent danger, prevailed on him, greatly against his own inclination, to relinquish the design of proceeding to Berwick, and retire to a place of safety on the coast, from which he might escape by sea, provided the search for him was continued. From this retreat he wrote to his wife and her mother, acquainting them with the reasons of his absconding, and the small prospect which he had of being able at that time to see them. “His brethren,” he said, “had, partly by admonition, partly by tears, compelled him to obey,” somewhat contrary to his own mind; for “never could he die in a more honest quarrel,” than by suffering as a witness for that truth of which God had made him a messenger. Notwithstanding this state of his mind, he promised, if providence prepared the way, to “obey the voices of his brethren, and give place to the fury and rage of Satan for a time.”[178]

{120} Having ascertained that his friends were not mistaken in the apprehensions which they felt for his safety, and that he could not hope to elude the pursuit of his enemies, if he remained in England, he procured a vessel, which landed him safely at Dieppe, a port of Normandy in France, on the 20th of January, 1554.[179]

{121}
PERIOD IV.

FROM THE YEAR 1554, WHEN HE LEFT ENGLAND, TO THE YEAR 1556,
WHEN HE RETURNED TO GENEVA, AFTER VISITING SCOTLAND.

PROVIDENCE, having more important services in reserve for Knox, made use of the urgent importunities of his friends to hurry him away from those dangers, to which, had he been left to the determination of his own mind, his zeal and fearlessness would have prompted him to expose himself. No sooner did he reach a foreign shore, than he began to regret the course which he had been induced to take. When he thought upon his fellow‑preachers, whom he had left behind him immured in dungeons, and the people lately under his charge, now scattered abroad as sheep without a shepherd, he felt an indescribable pang, and an almost irresistible desire to return and share in the hazardous but honourable conflict. Although he had only complied with the divine direction, “when they persecute you in one city, flee ye unto another,” and although in his own breast he stood acquitted of cowardice, yet he found it difficult to divest his conduct of the appearance of that weakness, and was afraid that it might operate as a discouragement to his brethren in England, and induce {122} them to make sinful compliances with a view of saving their lives.

On this subject we find him unbosoming himself to Mrs Bowes in his letters from Dieppe. “The desire that I have to hear of your continuance with Christ Jesus, in the day of this his battle, (which shortly shall end to the confusion of his proud enemies,) neither by tongue nor by pen can I express, beloved mother. Assuredly, it is such, that it vanquisheth and overcometh all remembrance and solicitude which the flesh useth to take for feeding and defence of herself. For, in every realm and nation, God will stir up some one or other to minister those things that appertain to this wretched life, and, if men will cease to do their office, yet will he send his ravens; so that in every place, perchance, I may find some fathers to my body. But, alas! where I shall find children to be begotten unto God by the word of life, that can I not presently consider; and therefore the spiritual life of such as some time boldly professed Christ, (God knoweth,) is to my heart more dear than all the glory, riches, and honour in earth; and the falling back of such men, as I hear daily to turn back to that idol again, is to me more dolorous than, I trust, the corporal death shall be, whenever it shall come at God’s appointment. Some will ask, Then why did I flee? Assuredly I cannot tell; but of one thing I am sure, the fear of death was not the chief cause of my fleeing. I trust that one cause hath been to let me see with my corporal eyes, that all had not a true heart to Christ Jesus, that, in the day of rest and peace, bare a fair {123} face. But my fleeing is no matter; by God’s grace I may come to battle before that all the conflict be ended. And haste the time, O Lord, at thy good pleasure, that once again my tongue may yet praise thy holy name before the congregation, if it were but in the very hour of death!”――“I would not bow my knee before that most abominable idol for all the torments that earthly tyrants can devise, God so assisting me, as his Holy Spirit presently moveth me to write unfeignedly. And albeit that I have, in the beginning of this battle, appeared to play the faint‑hearted and feeble soldier, (the cause I remit to God,) yet my prayer is, that I may be restored to the battle again. And blessed be God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, I am not left so bare without comfort, but my hope is to obtain such mercy, that, if a short end be not made of all my miseries by final death, (which to me were no small advantage,) that yet, by him who never despised the sobs of the sore afflicted, I shall be so encouraged to fight, that England and Scotland shall both know, that I am ready to suffer more than either poverty or exile, for the profession of that doctrine, and that heavenly religion, whereof it has pleased his merciful providence to make me, among others, a simple soldier and witness‑bearer unto men. And therefore, mother, let no fear enter into your heart, as that I, escaping the furious rage of these ravening wolves that for our unthankfulness are lately loosed from their bands, do repent any thing of my former fervency. No, mother; for a few sermons by me to be made within England, my heart at {124} this hour could be content to suffer more than nature were able to sustain; as, by the grace of the most mighty and most merciful God, who only is God of comfort and consolation through Christ Jesus, one day shall be known.”[180]

In his present sequestered situation, Knox had full leisure to meditate upon the surprising vicissitudes in his lot during the last seven years――his singular call to the ministry and employment at St Andrews――his subsequent imprisonment and release――the sphere of usefulness in which he had been placed in England, with the afflicting manner in which he was excluded from it, and driven to seek refuge as an exile in that country to which he had formerly been carried as a prisoner. This last event seemed in a special manner to summon him to a solemn review of the manner in which he had discharged the sacred trust committed to him, as “a steward of the mysteries of God.” It will throw light on his character, and may not be without use to such as occupy a public station in the church, to exhibit the result of his reflections on this subject.

He could not deny, without ingratitude to him who had called him to be his servant, that his qualifications for the ministry had been in no small degree improved since he came to England; and he had the testimony of his own conscience, in addition to that of his numerous auditors, that he had not altogether neglected the gifts bestowed on him, but had exercised {125} them with some measure of fidelity and painfulness. At the same time, he found reason for self‑accusation on different grounds. Having mentioned, in one of his letters, the reiterated charge of Christ to Peter, “Feed my sheep, feed my lambs,” he exclaims, “O, alas! how small is the number of pastors that obeys this commandment. But this matter will I not deplore, except that I, not speaking of others, will accuse myself that do not, I confess, the uttermost of my power in feeding the lambs and sheep of Christ. I satisfy, peradventure, many men in the small labours I take, but I satisfy not myself. I have done somewhat, but not according to my duty.”[181] In the discharge of private duties, he acknowledges, that shame, and the fear of incurring the scandal of the world, had sometimes hindered him from visiting the female part of his charge, and administering to them the instruction and comfort which they craved. In public ministrations, he had been deficient in fervency and fidelity, in impartiality, and in diligence. He could not charge himself with flattery, and his “rude plainness” had given offence to some; but his conscience now accused him of not having been sufficiently plain in admonishing offenders. His custom had been to describe the vices of which his hearers were guilty in such colours that they might read their own image; but, being “unwilling to provoke all men” against him, he had restrained himself from particular application. Though his “eye had not been much {126} set on worldly promotion,” he had sometimes been allured, by affection for friends and familiar acquaintances, to reside too long in some places, to the neglect of others which had an equal or perhaps stronger claim on his labours. Formerly he thought he had not sinned, if he had not been idle; now he was convinced that it was his duty to have considered how long he should remain in one place, and how many hungry souls were starving elsewhere. Sometimes, at the solicitation of friends, he had spared himself, and devoted to worldly business, or to bodily recreation and exercise, the time which ought to have been employed in the discharge of his official duties. “Besides these,” says he, “I was assaulted, yea infected, with more gross sins, that is, my wicked nature desired the favours, the estimation, and praise of men; against which, albeit that sometimes the Spirit of God did move me to fight, and earnestly did stir me (God knoweth I lie not) to sob and lament for these imperfections, yet never ceased they to trouble me when any occasion was offered; and so privily and craftily did they enter into my breast, that I could not perceive myself to be wounded till vainglory had almost got the upper hand. O Lord! be merciful to my great offence; and deal not with me according to my great iniquity, but according to the multitude of thy mercies.”[182]

Such was the strict scrutiny which Knox made into his ministerial conduct. To many the offences {127} of which he accused himself will appear slight and venial, while others will perceive in them nothing worthy of blame; but they struck his mind in a very different light, in the hour of adversity and solitary meditation. If he, whose labours were so abundant as to appear to us excessive, had such reason for self‑condemnation, how few are there in the same station who may not say, “I do remember my faults this day!”

He did not, however, abandon himself to melancholy and unavailing complaints. One of his first cares, after arriving at Dieppe, was to employ his pen in writing suitable advices to those whom he could no longer instruct by preaching and conversation. With this view, he transmitted to England two short treatises. The one was an exposition of the sixth Psalm, which, at the request of Mrs Bowes, he had begun to write in England, but had not found leisure to finish. It is an excellent practical discourse upon that portion of scripture, and will be read with peculiar satisfaction by those who have been trained to religion in the school of adversity. The other treatise was a large letter, addressed to those in London and other parts of England, among whom he had been employed as a preacher. The drift of it was to warn them against abandoning the religion which they had embraced, or giving countenance to the idolatrous worship now erected among them. The reader of this letter cannot fail to be struck with its animated strain, when he reflects that it proceeded from a forlorn exile, in a strange country, without a single acquaintance, and ignorant where he would {128} find a place of abode, or the means of subsistence. As a specimen of elevated piety and the most fervid eloquence, I cannot refrain from quoting the conclusion of the letter; in which he addresses their consciences, their hopes, their fears, and adjures them, by all that is sacred, and all that is dear to them, as men, as parents, and as Christians, not to start back from their good profession, and plunge themselves and their posterity into the gulf of ignorance and idolatry.

“Allace! sall we, efter so many graces that God has offerit in our dayis, for pleasure, or for vane threatnying of thame whome our hart knaweth and our mouthes have confessit to be odious idolateris, altogidder without resistance turne back to our vomit and damnabill ydolatrie, to the perdition of us and our posteritie? O horribill to be hard! Sall Godis halie preceptis wirk no greater obedience in us? Sall nature no otherwayis molifie our hartis? Sall not fatherlie pitie overcum this cruelnes? I speik to you, O natural fatheris! Behold your children with the eie of mercie, and considder the end of thair creatioun. Crueltie it were to saif your selves, and damn thame. But, O! more than crueltie, and madnes that can not be expressit, gif,[183] for the pleasure of a moment, ye depryve yourselves and your posteritie of that eternall joy that is ordanit for thame that continewis in confessioun of Christis name to the end. Gif natural lufe, fatherly affectioun, reverence of God, feir {129} of torment, or yit hoip of lyfe, move you, then will ye ganestand that abominabill ydol; whilk, gif ye do not, then, allace! the sone[184] is gone doun, and the lyht is quyte lost, the trompet is ceissit, and ydolatrie is placeit in quietnes and rest. But gif God sall strenthin you, (as unfainedlie I pray that his majestie may,) then is their but ane dark clude overspred the sone for ane moment, whilk schortlie shall vanische, sa that the beames efter salbe seven fald mair bryht and amiable nor they were befoir. Your patience and constancie salbe a louder trompit to your posteritie than were the voces of the prophetis that instructit you; and so is not the trompit ceissit sa lang as any baldlie resistith ydolatrie. And, thairfoir, for the tender mercies of God, arme yourselves to stand with Christ in this his schorte battell.

“Let it be knawn to your posteritie that ye wer Christianis, and no ydolateris; that ye learnit Chryst in tyme of rest, and baldlie professit him in tyme of trubill. The preceptis, think ye, are scharpe and hard to be observit; and yet agane I affirme, that comparit with the plagis that sall assuredlie fall upon obstinat ydolateris, thay salbe fund easie and lycht. For avoyding of ydolatrie ye may perchance be compellit to leave your native contrie and realme, but obeyris of ydolatrie without end salbe compellit to burne in hell; for avoyding ydolatrie your substance salbe spoillit, but for obeying ydolatrie heavenly ryches salbe lost; for avoyding ydolatrie ye may fall {130} into the handis of earthlie tirantis, but obeyeris, manteaneris, and consentaris to ydolatrie sall not eschaip the handis of the liveing God; for avoyding of ydolatrie your children salbe depryvit of father, friendis, ryches, and of rest, but by obeying ydolatrie they sall be left without God, without the knawledge of his word, and without hoip of his kingdome. Considder, deir brethrene, that how mekill mair[185] dolorous and feirfull it is to be tormentit in hell than to suffer trubill in erth, to be depryvit of heavenlie joy than to be rubbit of transitorie ryches, to fall in the hands of the liveing God than to obey manis vane and uncertane displeasure, to leif oure children destitute of God than to leif thame unprovydit befoir the world,――sa mekill mair feirful it is to obey ydolatrie, or by dissembling to consent to the same, than by avoyding and flying from the abominatioun, to suffer what inconvenient may follow thairupon.

“Ye feir corporall deth. Gif nature admitit any man to live ever, then had your feir sum aperance of reasone. But gif corporall deth be commoun to all, why will ye jeoparde to lois eternall lyfe, to eschaip that which neither ryche nor pure, nether wyse nor ignorant, proud of stomoke nor febill of corage, and finally, no earthlie creature, by no craft nor ingyne[186] of man, did ever avoid. Gif any eschapit the uglie face and horibill feir of deth, it was thay that baldlie confessit Chryst befoir men.――Why aucht the way of lyfe to be so feirfull by reasone of any pane, considering {131} that a great noumber of oure brethrene hes past befoir ws, by lyke dangeris as we feir. A stout and prudent marinell, in tyme of tempest, seeing but one or two schippis, or like weschells to his, pass throughout any danger, and to win a sure harberie, will have gud esperance,[187] by the lyke wind, to do the same. Allace! sall ye be mair feirfull to win lyfe eternall, than the natural man is to save the corporall lyfe? Hes not the maist part of the sanctis of God from the begynning enterit into thair rest, by torment and trubillis? And yit what complayntis find we in their mouthis, except it be the lamenting of thair persecuteris? Did God comfort thame? and sall his Majestie despyse us, gif, in fichting aganis iniquitie, we will follow thair futstepis? Hie will not.”[188]

On the last day of February, 1554,[189] he set out from Dieppe, like the Hebrew patriarch of old, “not knowing whither he went;”[190] and “committing his {132} way to God,” travelled through France to Switzerland. A correspondence had been kept up between some of the English reformers and the most noted divines of the Helvetic church. The latter had already heard, with the sincerest grief, of the overthrow of the Reformation, and the dispersion of its friends, in England. On making himself known, Knox was cordially received by them, and treated with the most affectionate hospitality. He spent some time in Switzerland, visiting the particular churches, and conferring with the learned men of that country; and embraced the opportunity of submitting to them certain difficult questions, which were suggested by the present conjuncture of affairs in England, and about which his mind had been greatly occupied. Their views with respect to these coinciding with his own, he was confirmed in the judgment which he had already formed for himself.[191]

In the beginning of May he returned to Dieppe, to receive information from England; a journey which he repeated at intervals as long as he remained on the continent. The kind reception which he had met with, and the agreeable company which he enjoyed, during his short residence in Switzerland, had helped to dissipate the cloud which hung upon his spirits when he landed in France, and to open his {133} mind to more pleasing prospects as to the issue of the present afflicting events. This appears from a letter written by him at this time, and addressed “To his afflicted brethren.” After discoursing of the situation of the disciples of Christ during the time that he lay in the grave, and of the sudden transition which they experienced, upon the reappearance of their master, from the depth of sorrow to the summit of joy, he adds: “The remembrance thereof is unto my heart great matter of consolation. For yet my good hope is, that one day or other, Christ Jesus, that now is crucified in England, shall rise again, in despite of his enemies, and shall appear to his weak and sore troubled disciples (for yet some he hath in that wretched and miserable realm); to whom he shall say, ‘Peace be unto you; it is I, be not afraid.’”[192]

His spirit was also refreshed at this time, by the information that he received of the constancy with which his mother‑in‑law adhered to the protestant faith. Her husband, it appears, took it for granted that she and the rest of the family had consciences equally accommodating with his own. It was not until she had evinced, in the most determined manner, her resolution to forsake friends and native country, rather than sacrifice her religion, that she was released from his importunities to comply with the Roman catholic religion.[193] Before he went to Switzerland, Knox had signified his intention, if his life was {134} spared, of visiting his friends at Berwick.[194] When he returned to Dieppe, he had not relinquished the thoughts of this enterprise.[195] It is likely that his friends had, in their letters, dissuaded him from it; and, after cool consideration, he resolved to postpone an attempt, by which he must have risked his life, without the prospect of doing any good.[196]

Wherefore, setting out again from Dieppe, he repaired to Geneva. The celebrated Calvin was then in the zenith of his reputation and usefulness in that city, and having completed its ecclesiastical establishment, and surmounted the opposition raised by those who envied his authority, or disliked his system of doctrine and discipline, was securely seated in the affections of the citizens. His writings were already translated into most of the languages of Europe; and Geneva was thronged with strangers from England, France, Germany, Poland, Hungary, and even from Spain and Italy, who came to consult him about the advancement of the Reformation, or to find shelter from the persecutions to which they were exposed, in their native countries. The name of Calvin was respected by none more than the protestants of England; and, at the desire of archbishop Cranmer, he had imparted to the protector Somerset, and to Edward VI., his advice as to the best method of advancing the Reformation in that kingdom.[197] Knox was affectionately received by him as a refugee from {135} England, and an intimate friendship was soon formed between them, which subsisted until the death of Calvin in 1564. They were nearly of the same age; and there was a striking similarity in their sentiments, and in the more prominent features of their character. The Genevan reformer was highly pleased with the piety and talents of Knox, who, in his turn, entertained a greater esteem and deference for Calvin than for any other of the reformers. As Geneva was an eligible situation for prosecuting study, and as he approved much of the religious order established in that city, he resolved to make it the ordinary place of his residence during the continuance of his exile.

But no prospect of personal safety or accommodation could banish from his mind the thoughts of his persecuted countrymen. In the month of July he undertook another journey to Dieppe, to inform himself accurately of their situation, and to learn if he could do any thing for their comfort.[198] The tidings he received on this occasion tore open those wounds which had begun to close. In Scotland, every thing was dark and discouraging. The severities used against the protestants of England daily increased; and, what was still more afflicting to him, many of those who had embraced the truth under his ministry {136} had been induced to return to the communion of the popish church. In the agony of his spirit, he wrote to them, setting before them the destruction to which they exposed their immortal souls by such cowardly desertion, and earnestly calling them to repentance.[199] Under his present impressions, he repeated his former admonitions to his mother‑in‑law, and to his wife; over whose religious constancy he was tenderly jealous. “By pen will I write (because the bodies are put asunder to meet again at God’s pleasure) that which, by mouth, and face to face, ye have heard, that if man or angel labour to bring you back from the confession that once you have given, let them in that behalf be accursed. If any trouble you above measure, whether they be magistrates or carnal friends, they shall bear their just condemnation, unless they speedily repent. But now, mother, comfort you my heart (God grant ye may) in this my great affliction and dolorous pilgrimage; continue stoutly to the end, and bow you never before that idol, and so will the rest of worldly troubles be unto me more tolerable. With my own heart I often commune, yea, {137} and, as it were comforting myself, I appear to triumph, that God shall never suffer you to fall in that rebuke. Sure I am that both ye would fear and eschame to commit that abomination in my presence, who am but a wretched man, subject to sin and misery like to yourself. But, O mother! though no earthly creature should be offended with you, yet fear ye the presence and offence of him, who, present in all places, searcheth the very heart and reins, whose indignation, once kindled against the inobedient, (and no sin more inflameth his wrath than idolatry doth,) no creature in heaven nor in earth is able to appease.”[200]

He was in this state of mind when he composed the Admonition to England, which was published about the end of this year. Those who have censured him, as indulging in an excessive vehemence of spirit and bitterness of language, usually refer to this tract in support of their charge.[201] It is true, that he there paints the persecuting papists in the blackest colours, and holds them up as objects of human execration and divine vengeance. I do not now stop to enquire, whether he was chargeable with transgressing the bounds of moderation prescribed by reason and religion, in the expression of his indignation and zeal; or whether the censures pronounced by his accusers, and the principles upon which they proceed, do not involve a condemnation of the temper and language of the most righteous men mentioned in scripture, and even of our Saviour himself. But, I may ask, is {138} there no apology for his severity to be found in the character of the persons against whom he wrote, and in the state of his own feelings, lacerated, not by personal sufferings, but by sympathy with his suffering brethren, who were driven into prisons by their unnatural countrymen, “as sheep for the slaughter,” to be brought forth and barbarously immolated to appease the Roman Moloch? Who could suppress indignation in speaking of the conduct of men, who, having raised themselves to honour and affluence by the warmest professions of friendship to the reformed religion under the preceding reign, now abetted the most violent measures against their former brethren and benefactors? What terms were too strong for stigmatizing the execrable system of persecution coolly projected by the dissembling, vindictive Gardiner, the brutal barbarity of the bloody Bonner, or the unrelenting, insatiable cruelty of Mary, who, having extinguished the feelings of humanity, and divested herself of the tenderness which characterises her sex, continued to urge to fresh severities the willing instruments of her cruelty, after they were sated with blood, and to issue orders for the murder of her subjects, until her own husband, bigoted and unfeeling as he was, turned with disgust from the spectacle?

On such a theme ’tis impious to be calm;
Passion is reason, transport temper here.

Oppression makes a wise man mad; but (to use the words of a modern orator, with a more just application) “the distemper is still the madness of the wise, {139} which is better than the sobriety of fools. Their cry is the voice of sacred misery, exalted, not into wild raving, but into the sanctified frenzy of prophecy and inspiration.”

Knox returned to Geneva, and applied himself to study with all the ardour of youth, although his age now bordered upon fifty. It seems to have been at this time that he made himself master of the Hebrew language, which he had no opportunity of acquiring in early life.[202] It is natural to enquire, by what funds he was supported during his exile. However much inclined his mother‑in‑law was to relieve his necessities, the disposition of her husband appears to have put it greatly out of her power. Any small sums which his friends had advanced to him, before his sudden departure from England, were exhausted; and he was at this time very much straitened for money. Being unwilling to burden strangers, he looked for assistance to the voluntary contributions of those among whom he had laboured. In a letter to Mrs Bowes, he says, “My own estate I cannot well declare; but God shall guide the footsteps of him that is wilsome, and will feed him in trouble that never greatly solicited for the world. If any collection might be made among the faithful, it were no shame for me to receive that which Paul refused not in the time of his trouble. But all I remit to his providence that ever careth for his own.”[203] I find that remittances {140} were made to him by particular friends, both in England and Scotland, during his residence on the continent.[204]

Meanwhile, the persecution growing hot in England, great numbers of protestants had made their escape from that kingdom. Before the close of the year 1554, there were on the continent several hundred Englishmen of good education, besides others of different ranks, who had preferred religion to country, and voluntarily encountered all the hardships of exile, that they might hold fast the profession of the protestant faith. The foreign reformed churches exhibited, on this occasion, an amiable proof of the spirit of their religion, and amply recompensed the kindness which England had shown to strangers during the reign of Edward. They emulated one another in exertions to accommodate the unfortunate refugees who were dispersed among them, and endeavoured, with the most affectionate solicitude, to supply their wants and alleviate their sufferings.[205] The principal places in which the English exiles obtained settlements, were Zurich, Basle, Geneva, Arrow, Embden, Wesel, Strasburg, Duysburg, and Frankfort.

Frankfort on the Maine was a rich imperial city of {141} Germany, which, at an early period, had embraced the Reformation, and befriended protestant refugees from all countries, so far as this could be done without coming to an open breach with the emperor, by whom their conduct was watched with a jealous eye. There was already a church of French protestants in that city. On the 14th of July, 1554, the English who had come to Frankfort obtained from the magistrates the joint use of the place of worship allotted to the French, with liberty to perform religious service in their own language.[206] This was granted upon the condition of their conforming, as nearly as possible, to the mode of worship used by the French church; a prudent precaution dictated by the political situation in which the city was placed. The offer was gratefully accepted by the English, who came to a unanimous agreement, that they would omit the use of the surplice, the litany, the audible responses, and some other ceremonies prescribed by the English liturgy, which, “in those reformed churches, would seem more than strange,” or which were “superstitious and superfluous.” Having settled this point in the most harmonious manner, elected deacons and a temporary pastor, and agreed upon certain rules of {142} discipline, they wrote a circular letter to their brethren who were scattered through different places, informing them of the agreeable settlement which they had obtained, and inviting them to participate in their accommodations at Frankfort, and unite with them in prayers for the afflicted church of England. The exiles at Strasburg, in their reply to this letter, recommended to them certain persons as well qualified for filling the offices of superintendent and pastor; a recommendation not asked by the congregation at Frankfort, who did not think a superintendent necessary in their situation, and who intended to put themselves under the inspection of two or three pastors invested with equal authority. They, accordingly, proceeded to make choice of three persons to this office. One of these was Knox, who received information of his election by a letter written in the name of the congregation, and subscribed by its principal members.[207]

The deputation which waited on him with this invitation found him engaged in the prosecution of his studies at Geneva. From aversion to sacrifice the advantages which he enjoyed, or from the apprehension of difficulties that he might meet with at Frankfort, he would gladly have excused himself from accepting the invitation. But the deputies having employed the powerful intercession of Calvin,[208] he was induced to comply, and repairing to Frankfort in the month of November, commenced his ministry with {143} the universal consent and approbation of the church. Previous to his arrival, however, the harmony which at first subsisted among that people had been disturbed. In reply to the letter addressed to them, the exiles at Zurich had signified that they would not come to Frankfort, unless they obtained security that the church there would “use the same order of service concerning religion, which was, in England, last set forth by king Edward;” for they were fully determined “to admit and use no other.” They alleged, that, by varying from that service, they would give occasion to their adversaries to charge their religion with imperfection and mutability, and would condemn their brethren who were sealing it with their blood in England. To these representations the brethren at Frankfort replied, that they had obtained the liberty of a place of worship, upon condition of their accommodating themselves as much as possible to the forms used by the French church; that there were a number of things in the English service‑book which would be offensive to the protestants among whom they resided, and which had been occasion of scruple to conscientious persons at home; that, by the variations which they had introduced, they were very far from meaning to throw any reflection upon the regulations of their late sovereign and his council, who had themselves altered many things, and had resolved on still greater alterations, without thinking that they gave any handle to their popish adversaries; and still less did they mean to detract from the credit of the martyrs, who, they were persuaded, {144} shed their blood in confirmation of more important things than mutable ceremonies of human appointment. This reply had the effect of lowering the tone of the exiles at Zurich, but it did not satisfy them; and, instead of desisting from the controversy, and contenting themselves with remaining where they were, they instigated their brethren at Strasburg to urge the same request, and, by letters and messengers, fomented dissension in the congregation at Frankfort.[209]

When Knox arrived, he found that the seeds of animosity had already sprung up among them. From what we already know of his sentiments respecting the English service‑book, we may be sure that the eagerness manifested by those who wished to impose it was very displeasing to him. But so sensible was he of the pernicious and discreditable effects of division among brethren exiled for the same faith, that he resolved to act as a moderator between the two parties, and to avoid, as far as possible, every thing which might have a tendency to widen or continue the breach. Accordingly, when the congregation had {145} agreed to adopt the order of the Genevan church,[210] and requested him to proceed to administer the communion according to it, although he approved of that form, he declined carrying it into practice, until their learned brethren in other places were consulted. At the same time, he signified that he had not freedom to dispense the sacraments agreeably to the English liturgy. If he could not be allowed to perform this service in a manner more consonant to scripture, he requested that some other person might be employed in this part of duty, in which case he would willingly confine himself to preaching; and if neither of these could be granted, he besought them to release him altogether from his charge. To this last request they would by no means consent.

Fearing that, if these differences were not speedily accommodated, they would burst into a flame, Knox, and some other members of the congregation, drew up a summary of the Book of Common Prayer, and, having translated it into Latin, sent it to Calvin for his opinion and advice. In a reply, dated January 20, 1555, Calvin stated, that he was grieved to hear of the unseemly contentions which prevailed among them; that, although he had always recommended moderation respecting external ceremonies, yet he could not but condemn the obstinacy of those who would consent to no change of old customs; that in {146} the liturgy of England he had found many tolerable fooleries, (tolerabiles ineptias,)――practices which might be tolerated at the beginning of a reformation, but ought to be removed as soon as possible; that, in his opinion, the present condition of the English exiles warranted them to attempt this, and to agree upon an order more conducive to edification; and that, for his part, he could not understand what those persons meant who discovered such fondness for popish dregs.[211]

This letter, when read to the congregation, had a great effect in repressing the keenness of such as had urged the unlimited use of the liturgy; and a committee was appointed to draw up a form which might put an end to all differences.[212] When this committee met, Knox told them that he was convinced it was necessary for one of the parties to relent before they could come to an amicable settlement; and that he would therefore state what he judged most proper to be done, and having exonerated himself, would allow them, without opposition, to determine as they should answer to God and the church. They accordingly agreed upon a form of worship, in which the English {147} liturgy was followed, so far as their circumstances and the general ends of edification, permitted. This was to continue in force until the end of April next; and if any dispute arose in the interval, it was to be referred to five of the most celebrated foreign divines. The agreement was subscribed by all the members of the congregation; thanks were publicly returned to God for the restoration of harmony; and the communion was received as a pledge of union, and of the burial of all past offences.

But this agreement was soon after violated, and the peace of that unhappy congregation again broken, in the most wanton and inexcusable manner. On the 13th of March, 1555, Dr Cox, who had been preceptor to Edward VI., came from England to Frankfort, with some others in his company. The first day on which they attended public worship after their arrival, they broke through the established order, by answering aloud after the minister in the time of divine service. Being admonished by some of the elders to refrain from that practice, they insolently replied, “that they would do as they had done in England; and they would have the face of an English church.”――“The Lord grant it to have the face of Christ’s church,” says Knox, in an account which he drew up of these transactions; “and therefore I would have had it agreeable, in outward rites and ceremonies, with Christian churches reformed.”[213]

On the following Sabbath, one of their number, {148} having intruded himself into the pulpit, without the consent of the pastors or the congregation, read the litany, while Cox and his accomplices echoed the responses. This offensive behaviour was aggravated by the consideration, that some of them had, before leaving England, been guilty of compliances with popery, for which they had not yet given satisfaction to their brethren.